


What Do the Stars Look Like Up There?

by dwaekki



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwaekki/pseuds/dwaekki
Summary: The stars hold and protect the souls of people gone too soon, they say.I wonder which star is you.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	1. Shooting Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in the morning, the stars are hidden, and lovers open their eyes to replicate the way they shine

"I read this quote once. It said, like... carpenters don't get carpenter block. Firefighters don't get firefighter block. It went on to say, addressing writers, to just pick up your pen; keep writing; you know you have it in you; you _are_ a writer--"

"That sounds like complete and utter bullshit, to be honest, Ji." Changbin said. Jisung burst into laughter, his head tilting against the metal railing as he expressed the sudden joy that Changbin so effortlessly gave him. It felt nice to let go of the stress for a moment, but, just as quickly as his laughter had pushed it out, it built right back up again, so Jisung tried to explain, "I just mean.... Actually, I don't know. It got to me, I guess."

"You feel bad for not being able to write, and you shouldn't." Changbin read Jisung's mind, the way he always did, and he smoothed out those rough thoughts, "Honestly, Jisung, being a writer with deadlines is stressful. We don't always have that creative drive, yet we feel like we should be writing every day. You remember the last hit we wrote? How long did it take us?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Exactly. We could spend an entire night watching these stars and sleep through the day that follows and we'll be fine."

Jisung considered his words for a moment, but he couldn't comfortable latch onto them. There was too much going through his head. "Sometimes I'm scared that my creativity is going to go away and never come back. I'm afraid I'll get writer's block that lasts forever."

"But you won't. Your mind can't stand not being creative for too long." Changbin said. His lips landed softly on Jisung's forehead for a beat; then, he suggested, "Let's go to sleep. You've got too much on your mind."

"I want to see a shooting star." Jisung muttered, though he didn't fight Changbin's small tug toward the stairs. He just kept muttering, "I've always wanted to see a shooting star. I think I need a wish right now."

"A wish? What wish do you need, pretty boy?" Changbin asked, to which Jisung laughed, "I can't tell you, Bin, that'll ruin it."

"Oh, come on, baby, it's _me_." Changbin said, slipping his hands under Jisung's hoodie to tickle his stomach. Jisung cringed away from him, giggling, while Changbin pressed further, wanting to get into Jisung's head, take a glimpse at his thoughts, "You know, telling your soulmate what your wish is won't ruin it. The stars will forgive you for sharing all your secrets and desires with your other half."

"You're annoying." Jisung muttered, but he kissed Changbin anyway, and he caved into his cheesy pressure anyway, "I just wished for my creative drive to never die. I want to always have it. I'm scared of losing it."

"Is that the only thing you're scared of losing?" Changbin teased. Jisung rolled his eyes, "I know I'll never lose you. You're my love, my heartbeat. Kind of like a cockroach. I couldn't get rid of you if I tried."

"I should tickle you to death for saying that." Changbin said, but he kissed Jisung instead, and Jisung trusted him enough to lift his arms to hug Changbin as the two kept their lips locked. Mistake, really, because Changbin did start to tickle him, even ignored the accidental bite on his bottom lip from Jisung's shocked teeth when Changbin's fingers started to attack his sides. The two of them landed on the balcony's floor and wrestled playfully-- Jisung shouting at Changbin to stop tickling him, and Changbin reprimanding Jisung for calling him a bug. The two would wake the neighbors if they didn't shut up pretty soon, but neither cared, nor thought about it, really. They were wrapped up in each other, like always; they were in their own world, like always; and if they missed a shooting star passing by because they insisted on each other over sleep or stargazing, it didn't really matter to either one of them.

  
✫彡

  
"You two have the strangest relationship of anyone I've ever known."

"That doesn't say much, Minho, you're not very social." Changbin muttered. He groaned when Minho softly kicked his side, and he slapped Minho's leg in retaliation, more concerned with "Jisung is still asleep" than the small bruise that would blossom beneath Minho's sneaker.

"He shouldn't be -- not out here. How did you two manage to fall asleep on your balcony?" Minho asked. He helped Changbin to his feet, and he crouched down to coax Jisung awake while Changbin was stretching out his sore back. Jisung whined as soon as he opened his eyes, "My back is cramping."

"That's what you get for falling asleep on a cold, wooden floor." Minho said. Jisung whined at him, held his arms out and made Minho carry him to his feet. Minho muttered something about Jisung being a pest, and Changbin agreed, and Jisung kicked Changbin, and Minho stepped between the two before they started up a little fight that would send them both to the ground again, with Jisung being tickled and whining about his back, and Changbin trying to kiss all over his face and neck.

"Want breakfast?" Changbin asked Minho, to which Jisung responded, "I do!" and Changbin said, "I know _you_ do," and Minho answered, laughing, as Jisung pouted, "Yeah. Breakfast sounds good."

"Why did you come over, Min?" Jisung asked as the three of them stepped inside, Changbin leading the way, Jisung glued to Minho's arm. Minho shrugged, "Just felt like seeing my boys this morning. Maybe intuition told me you two fell asleep on the ground and I had to come wake you up before you damaged your backs too bad."

"You always have had a sixth sense for us." Jisung joked. He broke away from Minho in the kitchen, for no reason other than he craved Changbin's touch instead. He leaned against his fiance, pursing his lips for a kiss. Changbin gave him one, absent-minded, as he searched through the cabinets for something to eat. He didn't see anything that called his name as a breakfast item, so he suggested, "Wanna go out?"

"Are you paying?" Minho teased. Changbin scrunched his nose up, offended, while Jisung whined about how he hadn't been able to shower last night, and he was feeling lazy right now. Changbin told him to just put a lot of cologne on. Jisung and Minho both agreed that that was gross. Changbin groaned, and told them he would go pick up food and bring it back, and grumbled about both of them being annoying. Jisung and Minho told Changbin they loved him; Changbin stuck his tongue out at both of them and left the house as soon as he put his shoes on.

"I think my spine is crooked now." Jisung said, laying across Minho's lap on the couch. Minho laughed, "Turn over, I'll massage you," and Jisung did so happily, stretching his back out as Minho worked his palms and fingers against Jisung's muscles and joints.

"Have you and Changbin worked out a date for the wedding?" Minho asked, to which Jisung shook his head. "We haven't even told our parents yet. You and Chan are the only ones who know we're engaged -- you, Chan, and people who ask about our rings. We're just... not ready, I guess. We know we want to get married, but we're not ready to really announce it and do it yet."

"People usually wait until they _are_ ready, or at least semi-ready, to get engaged." Minho commented. His tone was light, not critical; he was teasing, not judging. Jisung shrugged up his shoulders, groaned at the action, and relaxed them slowly. Minho moved his hands to Jisung's shoulders and tried to massage the pain out of them. Said pain bled into Jisung's voice as he spoke, "Changbin and I know we want to get married. We like the rings, so we might as well... right?"

Jisung couldn't finish his statement properly, focus taken by Minho's fingers across his back and shoulders. Minho laughed at him, and expressed his understanding with a simple mutter, and then, "You two are sweet, you know. I'm happy for you... happy you found each other."

"You're a cheeseball. You and Chan both -- Chan said the same thing to Changbin the other day." Jisung said. He rolled his shoulders back, and Minho moved his fingers there again. "If you two are working for your spots as our best men, just know you've already got it."

"Who belongs to who?" Minho asked, and Jisung craned his neck to look at him, "You already know you're mine."

"And I wouldn't want it any other way." Minho said. He tapped the back of Jisung's neck, "Stop that, you'll hurt yourself. Relax."

"No more looking at your pretty face?" Jisung pretended to whine. Minho slapped the back of Jisung's neck this time, and Jisung caved, laughing and dropping his head in time to miss the way Minho's expression revealed how the comment flustered him. He knew Jisung was just playing around, flirting with Minho the way he flirted with all of his close friends, but he also wasn't used to hearing things like that regularly, so he didn't know how, exactly, to respond, even in fun.

Minho changed the subject, "Have you seen Felix lately?"

Jisung perked up at the opportunity to talk about his best friend; he dove into a story about Felix going to New Zealand with Jeongin, and went on about how Jeongin still wasn't all that comfortable with Jisung, but he _did_ pop up behind Felix when he was on FaceTime with Jisung, and he said hi briefly. Six months ago, Jeongin wouldn't even make eye contact with Jisung, so he considered that to be a lot of progress.

Minho couldn't understand how _anyone_ could dislike Jisung, but he supposed everyone was different, and he was sure Jeongin would come around eventually, anyway. Jisung had a way of pulling people in.

  
✫彡

  
" _Fuck_ , Bin," Jisung gasped, riding out an orgasm against Changbin's hand. He pressed his back against the shower wall and tried to keep himself grounded, not wanting to slip and likely injure both of them in the process. Changbin helped, hands moving to Jisung's hips, lips on his mouth. Jisung laughed happily against Changbin's mouth, and Changbin wondered, amused, "Why are you so giddy?"

"Because I love you and you're good to me." Jisung said, rocking forward to be closer to Changbin. "Today was a good day. We saw Minho, I talked to Felix, I have you, it's good. Everything's good."

"I'm happy that you're happy, baby." Changbin said, knowing Jisung wasn't _always_ happy, and that days like these were few and far between. It's not that Jisung had _horrible_ days, but sometimes his days were bad, or mundane, and he wasn't as happy and upbeat as he was right now. Life had been quite cruel to Jisung. He was still healing.

"I'm happy that you're happy that I'm happy," Jisung said, and Changbin rolled his eyes, but he ended up kissing Jisung for two minutes straight -- slightly less about wanting him to shut up, slightly more about just wanting their mouths together.

"Let me get you off," Jisung said suddenly, his hands reaching for Changbin's hips. Changbin hummed, taking Jisung's hands and holding them, "Not horny."

"No?" Jisung asked, squeezing Changbin's fingers. Changbin shook his head, "Just want to go to bed. Hold you."

"Then let me wash your hair." Jisung said. Changbin let him, even though that would mean a few more minutes of running a towel through his hair so he didn't go to bed with his hair soaked. Changbin and Jisung showered quite quickly when they weren't attached by the mouth. Changbin let Jisung get out of the shower first to towel off, while he turned off the water and reorganized their soaps and shampoos on the shelves. Jisung handed the towel to Changbin, who toweled off quickly, too. They got dressed, as much as either of them did for bed -- Changbin in his underwear, and Jisung in some sweatpants. Changbin made to leave the bathroom after he hung up their towel, but Jisung pulled him back, sat him on the toilet and said, "Let me dry your hair."

"You want to blow-dry my hair?" Changbin asked, watching Jisung pull the blow dryer out of the _bottom_ of their lowest drawer -- goes to show how much either of them used it. Jisung hummed, plugged it in and started it up. Changbin didn't have any room left to protest, given the bathroom was now full of whirring from the blow dryer. He could hear, just slightly, Jisung's hums as he dried Changbin's hair, one hand running through his hair to get every layer. Changbin thought about Jisung must be feeling, to want to dry Changbin's hair -- such a mundane task, but something Jisung seemed to be having fun with, bouncing his hips back and forth as he hummed a little louder to whatever song he had in his head.

When Jisung was done, and he had set the blow dryer down, Changbin twisted his back and circled his arms around Jisung's waist, pulling Jisung down onto his lap quickly. Jisung laughed, scrambling to hold Changbin's shoulders as he crashed down. Changbin kissed him, but Jisung only let him for a moment, breaking away to say, "I want to brush your hair, too."

"My hair doesn't need any more attention tonight, baby," Changbin said. He kissed Jisung again -- brief, this time -- and rubbed a hand down his side, "You're really feeling good today, huh?"

"Yeah." Jisung said, beaming, "Minho and I talking about you and I getting married had me excited. I'll get you call you my husband, when we're ready."

"You can call me your husband now, you know. You've got me." Changbin said.

"Well then, husband," Jisung said, his lips forming a bright, bright smile around the word, "Let's go to sleep?"

"Want me to blow-dry your hair too, baby?" Changbin thought to offer, but Jisung shook his head, "My hair cooperates with me more in the morning. I just want to cuddle my husband."

"Cheesy." Changbin mumbled. He and Jisung went to bed -- Changbin half-carrying Jisung all the way there, with his arms tucked around Jisung's hips and his mouth still brushing against Jisung's lips. Changbin liked days like these. He had no problem with Jisung's bad or mundane days -- had no problem initiating all of the affection, doing most of the talking, just making sure Jisung was okay, but he just loved to see Jisung happy. He loved to watch Jisung fidget as he tried to find a comfortable position to hold Changbin instead of defeatedly draping across his chest for sleep because the day was just so exhausting. He loved the random suggestions: showering together, blow-drying Changbin's hair, watching a movie to put the two of them to sleep.

He loved Jisung.

"I love you," Changbin had half a mind to say out loud, sleepy. Jisung mumbled the words right back, and although Changbin couldn't actually comprehend a single syllable, he knew Jisung had said "I love you, too;" and Changbin fell asleep a little happier that night.


	2. it's okay (you're my universe, and i want you to shine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in the afternoon, the stars watch over pretty souls, taking note of the day's tragedies to determine how bright they must shine come midnight

Sometimes, Changbin wondered about the strange phenomenon of shock, and the things it did to one's mind and body. Never before had Changbin completely lost touch with reality for two hours straight, to the point where he was standing in the middle of the waiting room of a hospital with no real recollection of how he got there, phone in hand, a minute-and-a-half call to Minho taking the top spot of his call log. Changbin's knees were hurting and his face felt sticky with tears; his hands were dirty with gravel and blood; and it all came rushing back to him.

Luckily, that call to Minho had been at least five minutes before Changbin really _knew_ what the hell had happened within the past two hours, so he was there to physically hold Changbin together as all the adrenaline bled out of his body, as all the pain, fear, and trauma toppled down on him. Minho got the two of them into the corner of the room, sitting Changbin down and kneeling in front of him, hands on his knees, his biceps, his face, just trying to get Changbin to calm down, to breathe, to focus.

"I'm sorry--" Changbin sobbed, mind flooding with things he wanted to say, mouth too disconnected to stop: "I'm so sorry -- I'm fine -- I can't remember -- I don't know what happened -- I'm sorry -- I'm so sorry -- Jisung, I'm so sorry."

Minho had been hush'ing him the whole time, one hand holding Changbin's, the other in his hair, fingers massaging his head. Minho was so relaxing, yet Changbin's body wouldn't let him calm down, so Minho's touch ended up feeling like more pressure on his head, and Changbin hated that. Physically, he was uncomfortable, as if the raging panic and pain from the middle of his chest wasn't enough.

"Changbin. What happened?" Minho asked slowly. Changbin looked at his face, and he thought of a million different memories all at once -- Jisung claiming Minho as his best man; Jisung's head hitting Minho's jaw when he got too excited about jellyfish at the aquarium; Jisung barreling into Minho's arms at the airport. Changbin had to look away for a moment. _Focus_ , but Changbin couldn't, so he just tried to explain, best as he could with his mind and mouth being so disconnected. Changbin was late; he had just wanted the overtime pay to prepare for the wedding; Jisung must have been on the balcony; did someone push him? did he fall? did he--? and he choked on the word; he couldn't say _jump_.

"He fell from the roof?" Minho whispered. It hurt even more to hear it in his voice; no, it wasn't just in Changbin's head; no, he wasn't just imagining this; no, it wasn't some sick dream or prank; it was _real_ , and Jisung could die. Changbin choked over his tears, and he fumbled over a couple of words until he gave up altogether, leaning forward to rest his cheek against Minho's shoulder instead. Minho didn't need the verbal confirmation anyway; the fact that Changbin was breaking down in his arms, clutching onto his jacket for dear life, said enough. Minho focused on making quiet 'shhh' sounds, and telling Changbin that everything would be okay, so that he, himself, didn't start crying as well. The tearing up, he couldn't help; the _what if Jisung dies?_ pounding against the back of his skull was pushing those hopeless tears into his eyes, but he avoided letting them flood down his face. Minho wanted to be strong. Right now, he needed to be.

"Have you called anyone else, love?" Minho asked, gently, when he thought an appropriate amount of time had passed. Changbin sat upright, his eyes wide as he fumbled for his phone, "No. No, I haven't, oh God--"

"Why don't you let me call them?" Minho asked, holding out his hand for Changbin's phone. Changbin nodded, passing the device over. Minho kept one hand in Changbin's as he made those phone calls: Jisung's parents, Chan, even Changbin's parents. He asked, after all of it, "Anyone else I should call?" and Changbin shook his head, then, "Oh, maybe -- work..." but they both knew Chan could call or talk to their boss face-to-face later, so they stopped worrying about letting him know until they knew what was going on with Jisung's health.

Minho was really happy to see Chan. Even in light of the situation, Minho just felt so at ease when Chan walked into the hospital, head whipping around until he found Changbin and Minho in the corner. He fell next to Minho and asked, "What happened?" and Minho didn't even want to tell him for a moment. Chan looked so tired -- must have been, what with it being nearly 1:00 a.m.; knowing Chan, he had just finally gotten to sleep about half an hour ago.

"Jisung fell off the balcony." Minho said. Chan looked at Changbin, shocked, " _What?_ "

"I wasn't home." Changbin said. "I was back at the company. I just wanted to do some extra editing -- save up more money working overtime. I found him on the ground when I was walking up to the building."

"Oh my God, oh _God_." Chan whispered, most of the syllables falling under his breath. He leaned up to hug Changbin, and whispered something to him. Changbin nodded. Chan continued speaking, but he leaned back and Minho could hear, "--going to be okay. Jisung's so strong. Is he -- where is he?"

"Don't know." Changbin said. "He was just rushed off as soon as we got here. He was still breathing when I got to him, but -- I mean, who knows? He was bleeding and he just wouldn't wake up...."

"I'm so sorry, Changbin." Chan said, even as he was crying, "He was still holding on, at least -- he's so strong -- he's going to be okay. He _has_ to be okay."

 _He has to be okay_. As the three of them held each other, and cried together, they just tried to hold onto that thought, and believe in it, force it to become reality; _he has to be okay_.

  
★

  
Again, Changbin wondered about a strange phenomenon, but of time instead of shock. It hadn't felt like two months since that night. Nothing had felt real for a long time now -- not the commute from work to hospital, not the weekly visits from Jisung's family, not the week-long visit from his sister, not the conversations he had with Jisung's sleeping body. Changbin would think time would move so slow, considering he spent his days cramped into a hospital chair next to Jisung's bed, holding his hand and talking to his comatose body, but time flew. Two months. Changbin hadn't gone that long without seeing Jisung's eyes or hearing his voice since he was six, before he even met Jisung.

"You've been gone for a really long time." Changbin told Jisung. He tried to hold his expression together, and he tried not to speak too unevenly, knowing that, at any moment, a nurse or doctor could wander into the room, but it was so difficult. Two months of talking to Jisung's body and he still wasn't used to not really having him around.

"I like to think you've been fighting really hard to come back to me." Changbin said, "You must be so exhausted, right? Minho... he's been trying to tell me to let you go. He's been as gentle as he can. I wonder if I should listen to him, but I don't want that. Death is so dark, Sungie. You're my universe, and I want you to _shine_. That's what you always wanted too, right?"

Suddenly, the door to Jisung's room opened and closed, and Changbin wiped his tears away, thinking a nurse was coming in to check on Jisung. He made to turn around and greet said nurse, but a firm hand gripped his shoulder before he could, and a voice he loved asked, "Talking to him again?" and Changbin never minded crying in front of Minho.

"I do it, too." Minho said, as Changbin didn't answer. Minho sat on the edge of Jisung's bed -- leaned, really, as most of his weight remained on his feet. He kept his eyes on Jisung's face as he spoke to Changbin, "What do you talk to him about?"

"How I don't want him to leave me." Changbin admitted. His next words were drowned by a sob, so broken that even he didn't understand what he said, nor did he remember what he meant to say. Minho didn't ask him to repeat himself. He slid a little closer to Changbin, hand joining his over Jisung's.

"It's hard, isn't it?" Minho asked, his voice now weighted by his own tears. "It's hard to miss him. It's hard to let go."

"I'm not letting go." Changbin said. He sobbed, broken, "He didn't do it, right? It was an accident. He just _fell_ ; he wouldn't jump."

"I really want to believe that, babe, I just... don't know." Minho said. He stared at Jisung. "We can never just assume someone _wouldn't_ commit suicide. Anyone _can_ , just like anyone can be depressed, or fall into situations that feel like imprisonment. We'll never really know...."

"I just don't think Jisung would do it without leaving something behind. He was a writer; he knew how to say sorry, and he _would_ say he's sorry." Changbin insisted. Minho hesitated, but he nodded. Changbin was Jisung's lover -- his life, his heartbeat, his soulmate, and everything else the two used to say to each other. Minho trusted his judgement: "I think I can believe that, too."

"I should've been home." Changbin muttered. Minho begged, "Don't do that to yourself," but Changbin didn't listen, his guilt being so stubborn, even after the time that had passed, "I could have been there for him. I could have talked him down, if he really did this to himself, or just saved him from _falling_. Maybe if I was home, we wouldn't have been on the balcony at all! I was so tired that night and I _just_ wanted to go to bed and he would have gone with me; I could have saved him."

"Anyone _could_ have. Hell, _I_ could have, but I wasn't there. You weren't, either, but you can't blame yourself for that." Minho begged, but Changbin wasn't having it, his voice raising in volume as he cried and ranted, " _Someone_ has to take responsibility! The love of my life could _die_ , it can't be _no one's_ fault!"

"Blame me, then." Minho begged, just trying to calm Changbin down at this point. " _I_ wasn't there for him. At least you were at work. I was just at home, asleep. Blame me."

"Don't be fucking ridiculous." Changbin scoffed. "He's _my_ fiancé; I'm supposed to protect him. I should have...."

Changbin looked at Jisung, really taking in his appearance. He looked peaceful, almost like he _wasn't_ on the brink of death. Changbin could almost fool himself into thinking Jisung was taking a nap, not stuck in a coma. Almost. The weight of the situation washed over him again, though, and he folded forward, face against white sheets as he cried, hand holding Jisung's tighter.

"Bin," Minho mumbled, hand against Changbin's back, body shifting to crouch next to Changbin to comfort him better. Changbin broke down sobbing, muffled and broken; Minho held him, comforting him with small shush'ing noises. Eventually, Changbin started to apologize-- for what, he didn't specify, but Minho knew he was saying sorry for _everything_ , and he stopped Changbin, "It's okay. Don't say sorry. It's okay."

A nurse came into the room just to check on Jisung quickly. Changbin hid himself in Minho's chest, embarrassed, until the woman was gone, at which point Changbin straightened his back out, and held onto Jisung's hand again.

"I don't care if you believe it or not," Changbin said, "But... will you just tell me that he's going to make it? That he'll come back to us?"

"I do believe that he's going to make it." Minho said. "Whole-heartedly. Jisung will come back to us."

  
★

  
The phenomenon of irony, and of cold, angry fate, Changbin thought; Han Jisung died that night.


	3. love again with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at night, the stars take over where the sun left off, fighting the darkness with the beauty they behold

At Han Jisung's funeral, three people spoke.

Lee Felix said, "Jisung had been my saving grace since the moment I started college. I struggled a lot in my first year, and he pushed me through. He had this way of motivating you that was... irreplaceable. He didn't try to underestimate any of the struggles he knew you would face, but he made sure you knew that he was going to be right next to you through everything, and he, himself, had been through a lot, so there were very few things he couldn't directly relate to. No matter what, Jisung was reliable, and comforting, but he was still so _fun_. He always had something to do, or something to say. Nothing was boring with Jisung. I think I'll miss that the most about him."

Kim Seungmin said, "Jisung and I didn't know each other well, but I still consider him to be one of the people who knew me the most in this world. It's strange. Jisung probably didn't know my favorite color, but he knew my deepest secrets. He didn't remember my birthday, but he knew the kinds of things he shouldn't talk to me about. Jisung was a very safe person; he didn't need details or explanations to understand someone. He just did. He was good at that. He was definitely a people person, even as an introvert. I admired that about him. I still _do_ admire that about him, and I'll really miss being able to tell him that."

Hwang Hyunjin said, "Jisung was one of _the_ most eccentric people I've ever known. I'd never met anyone quite like him. He was so funny and so awkward at the same time, but it was a combination that worked really well for him. It's what made Jisung, Jisung. I'll miss late nights with him. I'll miss calling him at 2 in the morning because I knew, and we all knew, that he was still awake when the rest of the world was asleep. I know Jisung loved to watch the stars -- that's what would keep him up between late night and early morning. I hope, wherever his soul is resting, he can still see them."

"Do you want to talk?" Minho asked, leaning over to whisper the words in Changbin's ear. Changbin shook his head, his voice coming out choppy and broken when he returned the question, "Do you?"

Minho, too, shook his head. Changbin slipped his hands into Minho's. They didn't speak to each other for the remainder of the funeral; so many people came up to talk to Changbin, and Chan was having a particularly hard time holding himself together, having to steal Minho's attention to say _something_ about Jisung; "I forgot he did that," when he overheard someone telling a story about his high school years; "I never even considered how he would want to still be able to see the stars," after Hyunjin's speech; "Fuck, Minho, I'm going to miss him so much," when his emotions became too much to handle in the middle of the funeral. Despite their attention stealers, though, Minho and Changbin stay half-glued to each other throughout the funeral, and they sat next to each other in the driver and passenger seat on the way back to Minho and Chan's apartment. Chan had stayed behind to help clean up, promising he would ask Hyunjin or Felix to drive him to the apartment, insisting, too, that they go home and _sleep_ , because he knew neither one of them did. ("You and I both know you didn't sleep, either," Minho argued, but Chan laughed it off, "I have insomnia. _I'm_ used to it. Go;" and the two of them parted with a kiss.)

"I really appreciate you and Chan taking care of me." Changbin said from the passenger seat. He was staring out of the window when Minho looked at him, and, from his peripheral, Minho noticed he kept his eyes on the scenery, even as he spoke, "I don't know how I'd be faring if I didn't have you two."

"You don't have to think about that." Minho said. "Please don't imagine being alone right now. You're not. Enough bad has happened, Bin, you don't need to imagine an even worse scenario."

"I just wanted to thank you." Changbin said. His voice was still so cold, so distant. Minho felt like a hand was squeezing his heart and mushing up his brain at the same time, to the point where that he couldn't think, or get comfortable, not with Changbin right next to him. He hated that feeling, but he dealt with it all the same, because he knew this wasn't forever, and Changbin had every reason to feel and to be closed off, to hate the world.

Minho briefly imagined how he would feel, or act, or think, if Chan was suddenly ripped out of his life, especially in the midst of marriage plans. His throat closed up just at the thought of it.

Of course Changbin hated the world. Minho would help him love it again.

  
☆

  
Changbin's method of loving the world again came through late night, nature-driven moments. He stayed with Minho and Chan just to feel less lonely, and he often stood outside of the apartment complex and stared up at the sky. Minho had found him like that countless times. The first time he found Changbin like that, he had been so worried. He woke up sometime around 3 a.m. with a dry throat and a numb arm beneath Chan's head. He went to the kitchen for some water, and noticed the second bedroom's door was wide open, and he peeked in to find Changbin's bed empty. The bathroom was empty, too, and the living room was as vacant as it should be in the middle of the night. Minho texted Changbin just to hear his phone buzz in the guest room, and he panicked.

Luckily, Minho's first instinct was to peer out of his bedroom window, where he saw a figure pacing around one of the trees in front of the complex. Minho slipped his shoes on, took a jacket and his glass of water, and went downstairs. That figure was, indeed, Changbin, who looked shocked to see Minho walking toward him. "What are you doing up?"

"I should be asking you that." Minho said. Changbin rolled his eyes, "You know why I'm awake."

"I'm not sure why I'm up. I woke up with a dry throat, and I just really wanted some water, I guess." Minho explained. "You scared me, you know. When I didn't see you in your room, I thought something had happened."

Changbin's shoulders dropped an inch or two, guilt forming his expression, "I'm sorry. I'm fine. I mean, I'm not fine, but I'm alive, so I can work on being fine. I just feel closer to Jisung when I'm not indoors. I'm not sure why."

"You don't have to know why." Minho said. He leaned against the tree that Changbin had been circling. He opened his arms, but Changbin shook his head, gently rejecting his request for physical affection, "I'm sorry, I can't do a hug right now."

"Don't worry." Minho said. He dropped his arms, one hand in his pocket, the other extending to offer Changbin some water. Changbin accepted it, only taking small sips, but, somehow, it still comforted Minho to see Changbin drink it. Something so mundane was so easy to forget about when your mind was focused on trauma and pain. Minho knew he wouldn't be concerned about _drinking water_ if he lost the love of his life.

(Sometimes, Minho wished he could stop comparing Changbin and Jisung's tragedy to 'what if' scenarios about him and Chan, but it was hard. He had seen how in love Changbin and Jisung were, and he had always felt so incredibly happy that the two of them, his two _best friends_ in the world, contained the same warmth of being in love that he did. Now, it was gone. Hell. He couldn't believe that reality was _gone_.)

Minho wasn't always with Changbin on his nature nights. Changbin walked into the apartment at 7 a.m. one morning, and explained to Chan and Minho, who were waiting for him on the couch with breakfast cooking and the morning news playing, that he had gone for a walk around the city, taking shortcuts with the parts of the trail that cut through the neighborhood. It was relaxing, he said, if not slightly illegal, for the trail was supposed to be closed off to people from 11 p.m. to 8 a.m.; clearly, Changbin had no cares about that. He just wanted to feel close to Jisung. He just wanted to feel less trapped in his own head, less trapped within four stuffy walls.

"You could always wake us up if you want company, you know." Chan said, to which Changbin shrugged, "I would, but... sometimes I talk to him. And I sound _fucking insane_ , but, I don't care. I just don't want you guys to have to listen to me have a whole conversation with someone who's not even there."

"Maybe we could all talk to him," Minho suggested, and Changbin hummed, "I guess so. Maybe next time."

(Not next time, but the time after that, Changbin walked into Chan and Minho's room at 5 a.m. and asked if they wanted to go talk to Jisung. It was oddly comforting to walk along a dirt path that none of them should have been on, when the sky was still dark and they could barely see anything but shadows, all holding onto one another to avoid losing one another, talking to trees, the sky, and the stars, and pretending every whisper of the wind was Jisung responding to their questions, their anecdotes, their 'missing you's in some way.)

Changbin wasn't ready to go back to his own apartment for three months, but Minho went with him when he was. Chan went between apartments and work -- often staying at Minho's simply because it was closer to the studio, and he worked a lot to fill in the gap that Jisung's death had left. Changbin promised he could work again, but Chan insisted he take the extra month that their boss had given him to heal. In the meantime, he could handle it. It took Minho reassuring Changbin that Chan could, indeed, handle the extra workload for Changbin to give in, and avoid working to heal.

Changbin and Minho spent the first night back at Changbin's apartment sitting on the balcony. Changbin had a drink in his hand -- just one, he promised, and he sat there with his legs pulled into his chest, looking small, looking a bit like Jisung, who used to sit like that _constantly_. Minho was glad he could focus on the stars instead of how much Changbin reminded him of Jisung in the moment.

"Am I crazy?" Changbin asked suddenly. "Since that night, I feel like I see less stars in the sky."

Minho considered the statement for a moment. He wasn't a stargazer, like Changbin was, and Jisung had been, but he took the occasional glance upward when he remembered there existed a whole galaxy above his head. He'd actually been doing it a lot more recently, now that he thought about it, but he didn't see less stars in the sky. Maybe he didn't really see a different at all, but Minho had been trying to take any opportunity he could, lately, to ease Changbin's heart, so, he suggested, "Really? I see more."

Changbin scoffed, glancing over to Minho. "You always see the bright side of things, don't you? Even Jisung's fucking _death_."

"I have to." Minho decided, staring at one star in particular that was just barely visible next to the moon's glow. His voice became heavier and heavier as he spoke, "I'm not strong like you. I can't handle the dark side of things. Reality, I guess. I'm looking at the sky and pretending to see more stars because I wish-- I _hope_ for Jisung to be among them. I want him to still be that close to us-- unreachable, sure, but viewable. Talk-to-able. Cry-to-able."

Changbin hated how easily he cried, lately. He turned his head away from Minho, pushing tears across his cheeks with his left hand. He didn't mean to leave them in silence, but, all the same, he didn't want to speak, so they both settled for uncomfortable quiet.

Then, Minho shifted closer to Changbin, and tucked an arm around his waist, and the two were comfortable again.

  
☆

  
Sometimes, being around Changbin was really difficult.

It seemed like reality finally caught up to Changbin the moment he went back to work. He came home that night slamming his front door and breaking down on his knees, slouched against the wood that had echoed through the apartment. Minho went to him quickly, only for Changbin to push him away, "Don't. _Do not_. Get the fuck out; I want to be alone."

"Not happening." Minho insisted, didn't care how angry Changbin got, "What happened?"

"Fuck off, just leave me alone." Changbin said. Minho would be lying if he said he felt the same way as he presented himself -- unscathed by Changbin's attitude, unafraid of his potential reaction to, "I'm not leaving you, Changbin, something's going on."

"God, do you even really _care_ , Minho? I haven't seen you cry once since Jisung's funeral!" Changbin said. "You clearly have _no idea_ how I'm feeling, so how the hell are you supposed to help me with it? You'd be just as useful at your own apartment as you are here!"

Minho tried not to let the words scrape at his heart. He tried not to jump immediately into defending himself. He took a moment to breathe, and remind himself that Changbin was particularly emotional, and vulnerable, and, clearly, being back at work had jostled his mental state quite a bit. Still, Minho couldn't help but think how unfair it was for Changbin to treat him like that -- as if he hadn't been Changbin's anchor for the past three months, as if he hadn't done his absolute best to hold Changbin together, as if he hadn't suppressed his emotions just to make sure he was a safe space for Changbin to express his.

Not the time, Minho decided. Changbin could realize that later on. Right now, he just needed to be okay.

"I don't know exactly how you're feeling, Bin, but I know you're feeling a lot. Why don't you tell me?" Minho asked. Changbin shook his head, and he got to his feet, silently walking past Minho. He moved fast, and he was already slamming the door of his bedroom before Minho could make it down the hall. Minho knocked on the door, jolting when something hard hit the other side and Changbin screamed at him, " _Go away!_ "

Minho decided, fine, he would just let Changbin be on his own for a while. He sat on Changbin's couch and called Chan, asked him if something had happened at work. Chan couldn't recall exactly how Changbin had been acting, since he had been so focused on his own work, but he did notice Changbin spacing out from time to time; he noticed how Changbin seemed a bit unfocused, but he got a lot done despite that. Minho told Chan that Changbin wasn't okay right now, and that he might be home tonight, if Changbin really did want him out of there. Chan told Minho to stay strong.

When Chan was off the phone, Minho broke down crying.

He wasn't sure how long he cried, but Changbin caught him doing so. He went silently to Minho, holding a water bottle, and sat down next to him. He handed Minho the water, and Minho drank a bit, passing it to Changbin afterwards. Changbin set it down, and said, "I don't deserve it, but can I have a hug?"

Minho had his tears under control, and he actively worked on controlling his hurt and anger as he wrapped his arms around Changbin and held him. He expected Changbin to start crying again, because he couldn't imagine why else Changbin had asked for a hug, but he didn't. Instead, he held onto Minho tightly, face buried in his chest: "I'm so sorry. I'm so, _so_ sorry. You've been helping me so much, and you didn't deserve to hear any of that. I don't think that. I promise I don't."

"It's okay." Minho promised. "I know you're emotional. I know you're having a hard time. It's okay."

"Where the hell did you get your patience?" Changbin asked, laughing a little. He sat up and looked at Minho, breaking into another sort of sob-laugh as soon as he looked at Minho's face, "Seriously. If I were you, I would have tossed me aside months ago."

"I just know how much you're going through, Bin." Minho said. "I really do feel it, too, even if I don't cry, or break down. We're just dealing with Jisung's death in different ways. It's okay to be angry, to scream and cry and hate the world. _Fuck_ the universe, you know, for taking Jisung. I don't blame you for being angry."

"I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You've done nothing but support me, even before Jisung's death." Changbin said. He leaned back against the couch, but he reached for Minho's hand. Minho gave it to him, and agreed, "No, you shouldn't have, but I don't blame you for doing it, either. You're mad at life. You know what's part of life? The people you love. If your anger gets misdirected sometimes, it's okay. That's grief. I'm not going to leave you unless you don't come back to me."

"I promise I won't stray for long if I do. I promise I'll try to keep my head on straight." Changbin said. He rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and groaned, "I was at work today, and I was writing away, and I couldn't, for the _life of me_ , stop thinking about every _single_ moment Jisung and I had at work together. Holding hands, writing songs, joking around, ignoring each other for hours because we were so focused on our work, but still finding time for a random kiss or touch when we remembered where we were and who we were with. I kept zoning into my work, coming back to reality, and forgetting, for just a second, that he isn't part of my reality anymore. Ten hours of that? I felt like I was in Hell."

"I'm so sorry, Bin." Minho said. Changbin shook his head, "It's okay. Eventually, I'll get used to the fact that he's just not around anymore, but it's hard. It's so _fucking_ hard, sometimes. He's been in my life for so much longer than he's been out of it, and I just can't believe I'm going to grow up, get old, and not be able to say that anymore."

Minho couldn't think of a response. Nothing seemed to suffice, though, because Changbin just kept on staring at the ceiling, and Minho noticed, the way his chest was rising and falling, that he was practicing a breathing exercise that Chan had suggested to him a few days ago. Minho squeezed Changbin's hand every time he was supposed to hold his breath or exhale, helping him keep count. Five minutes like that -- just silence, and breathing. Changbin lifted his head up after a prolonged exhale and smiled, "Thank you."

"Anytime." Minho said, patting Changbin's hand. "Did you eat?"

"I will eat the biggest breakfast in the world tomorrow if you just let me sleep right now." Changbin bargained, and Minho took that deal. He and Changbin ended up sleeping in Changbin's room; Minho called Chan to let him know that he would be staying at Changbin's after all. Chan asked if he was okay. Minho looked at Changbin -- laying on his stomach with a pillow tucked beneath his chin and neck, looking at some long poem on his phone, kicking his legs back and forth and messing up the way his blanket lay over his hips, and decided, "You know? I'm starting to believe he is."

  
☆

  
Healing is beautiful, Minho decided. It had been a long, cold eight months without Changbin's huge, bright laugh -- the kind that took a second for him to rev up to, having to take a quick breath in to even have the lung capacity to let out. Minho genuinely almost teared up, seeing Changbin laugh so hard at a joke Chan made _about Jisung_. Minho's blood had run cold when Chan said it, and even Chan had frozen in his spot for a second, but then Changbin laughed with such carefree joy that Chan and Minho even laughed along, albeit much quieter, and still a bit cautious.

Minho knew, that day, that Changbin would be alright.

There was a time Minho thought Changbin might not ever get over Jisung. Going back to work really set him back, really worked _Jisung is dead, and he's never coming back to you_ into his head. He would go days without eating, or speaking; he would refuse even _water_ at some points, and he called out of work at least once a week. It was two stressful months of Minho killing himself to just try to get Changbin back to a healthy headspace, of Chan trying to take care of Minho on top of _still_ filling in Jisung's spot at work, and making up for whatever Changbin couldn't do, of Changbin slowly dying from the inside out. It was two months of snapping at each other, crying constantly, yelling, slamming doors, sleeping between apartments, losing touch with reality, just wanting things to get better.

But Minho, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung had always been four against the world; ride or dies; partners in crime; _the best of friends_ , and even with one piece missing, their puzzle clung together. It just looked a little different.

None could pinpoint the time or reason the three of them fell back together. It just kind of happened; the stress faded away, the fighting came to a close, the door stopped being abused by rough and angry hands, the tears went back to grief over frustration, the jumping between apartments was by preference instead of _who do I need to avoid tonight?_ , and things got better.

Things got _good_.

The three of them went back to regular work schedules, regular sleeping schedules (as regular as Chan's persistent insomnia and Changbin's random nightmares, anyway), and regular life. Minho spent more time in his apartment than Changbin's, and Changbin fared well living on his own. He slowly returned to a healthy weight, a healthy lifestyle. Minho still slept over at least once a week, and Chan joined him, sometimes, and then all the time, for their boss hired someone new and Chan was no longer scrambling to fill in Jisung's place. Changbin was working harder, topping the work he did when Jisung was still with him. He was doing better. He was doing _good_.

All of them were.

Minho was pretty afraid of the anniversary of Jisung's death. He had been wary, even, of the months that reflected Jisung's time in a coma, and he had been particularly worried about the day Changbin found Jisung half-dead outside of their apartment, but Changbin got through every day even without Minho or Chan's presence. He mentioned, one morning, that he had been talking to his family a lot -- video calling his sister every day, talking to his mom and dad over the phone at least once a week.

"They want me to move back home for a while," Changbin said, and Minho thought he would be upset about not seeing Changbin as often, but he hardly had time to think it -- "But I told them no. I'd miss you and Chan too much."

"You could always call us, you know." Minho laughed, to which Changbin shrugged, "Yeah. But it's hard to stargaze through the phone. I like the nights we spend on the balcony. I'd be stupid to give those up."

Minho loved those balcony nights, too. They were so peaceful, especially when Chan was around, too. It had been a little nerve-wracking, at first, cuddling up to Chan on Changbin's balcony when Changbin was right there, alone, but Changbin didn't mind, and often told the two of them that they were stupidly cheesy and needed to follow in his footsteps and just propose soon. He would bet on Minho being the one to propose, or at least be the first one to think of it, and Chan would complain that he wanted to do it. Changbin said he would wait too long, and Minho would get impatient, and they all laughed at the thought of _Minho_ growing _impatient_.

Chan wasn't around on the anniversary of Jisung's death. He had gone back to Australia for a family wedding -- which he didn't want to go to in the first place, but his mother insisted on it, saying that her sister wouldn't change the date of her wedding over a death she had no idea about, and that she was sorry, but Chan needed to be there; and then Minho was stuck between going with Chan or staying with Changbin, but Chan said _hell no_ , Minho needed to stay with Changbin. It was a messy week of Chan being frustrated with the timing his family had but being unable to blame his mother _or_ her sister for it, because, truly, she must have been planning this wedding for so long, and she wasn't going to take _Chan's_ schedule into consideration. Minho dropped Chan off at the airport the day before that fateful anniversary date and told him to have fun and not worry about Changbin or Minho, to call if he found himself affected by the date. Chan kissed him goodbye and promised he would be back as soon as possible.

Minho went to Changbin, and he expected something to shift for at least the day. He spent the night wondering if Changbin would be angry, if he would spend most of the day crying, if he would simply crash and sleep through the tragedy, but none of that happened. Changbin was stronger, now. He woke up early, he cooked breakfast, he worked out, even, and he took Minho with him on a walk around the block -- just something to get his legs moving. He did breathing exercises with Minho in the middle of the day, and he curled up on the balcony with Minho that night, spending half of the time watching the stars, and the other half texting someone, his screen dim as to not disturb the view.

Minho hadn't seen him use his phone that much in a year.

"Want to know something?" Changbin asked suddenly, still typing away on his phone. Minho hummed, "Hm?"

"His favorite heart emoji was the one with stars on it."

For a second, Minho didn't laugh, but he remembered that he was allowed to, now. "That doesn't surprise me at all."

"He really was all about nature." Changbin said. "He used that heart emoji all the time, and the squirrel, and the leaves, and the other little sparkles. He _loved_ the shooting star, too. His entire 'frequently used' section looked like a forest at night."

"'A forest a night' very much describes Jisung as a person," Minho thought, and Changbin laughed, just a small, breathy laugh, "You're right. It does."

For a few moments, Changbin was silent, with his phone tucked against his stomach. It buzzed, and he looked at it, and, finally, Minho caved into his curiosity, "Who are you texting so much, anyway?"

"Jisung's friends. Felix, Seungmin, Hyunjin. They made a group chat with me in it after I reached out to them." Changbin said. "It's been fun getting close to them. It's nice to talk to people that knew Jisung, too. You and Chan are more than enough, of course, but it's still nice to be involved in the other lives that Jisung touched. It's comforting."

"Sounds healthy." Minho said, and Changbin snorted, " _Healthy_. I'm trying my best."

"And you're doing amazing." Minho said. "I am really proud of you, you know. It sounds kind of stupid and cheesy saying it out loud, but you've done really well with the healing process. I was afraid today would be a bad day for you."

"I was, too, but, oddly enough, I feel fine." Changbin said. "Of course I still miss him. Of course it still hurts. Of course I still hate this world, and I'm so _damn_ angry that he's gone, but there are still memories of him here, and people that love him, so it's not as bad as I had convinced myself it was. It's just a little worse off without Jisung here, you know?"

"I know." Minho said. "But knowing how much of an impact Jisung left on the little part of the world he did touch is comforting, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful." Changbin agreed. "This world is beautiful because Jisung was in it once, so I think I can learn to love it again."

 _I think I can learn to love it again_. Minho beamed, and, although Changbin's attention was stolen again by his phone, Minho agreed quietly, "I think I can, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/SE0SUNN)


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